


This One Doesn't Count

by wyntera



Series: Arizona Is Out To Get You, Hanzo [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Peapod McHanzo Week, Spheksophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 12:47:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13295196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyntera/pseuds/wyntera
Summary: Day 6 of Peapod McHanzo Week! Today's prompt: Date Night! (Or in this case, Date Afternoon)Hanzo is so freaking done, y'all.





	This One Doesn't Count

“Here you go, pumpkin.”

Hanzo jolts at the sound of Jesse’s voice suddenly so close at his side. He was supposed to be keeping a lookout while Jesse got them lunch, but Hanzo is absolutely exhausted. Instead he sat in a fugue, staring at nothing. Beneath his skin the dragons coil lazy and warm, soaking in the weak sunlight. He presses his fingers against his eye sockets to try and wake up. “That was fast.”

“Not really,” Jesse says, setting the tray down between them and beginning to divide up the food. “I’m sorry you’re so tired, hun. Not too much longer now. We’ll get some food in you and you’ll feel a little better.”

They managed to get hold of Tracer two hours ago and were given a time and coordinates for a rendezvous. All they need to do is make it one more hour, and they will be flying home to the Watchpoint. Of course, Hanzo plans on being unconscious as soon as he hits one of those jump seats. Or maybe he will just lay on the floor; at this point he is not picky. “Thank you. And there is no need to apologize; it is not your fault,” Hanzo says right before a yawn takes him hard. He belatedly remembers to cover his mouth. When he blinks back to Jesse he finds the other man looking amused. “What?”

Not amused, Hanzo realizes. Besotted. “You look right cute when you’re all sleep-soft, you know that?”

Hanzo ducks his gaze down toward his food, a flush creeping up his cheeks. “I highly doubt that. Tired and hungry, maybe.”

“Handsome, beautiful, pretty as a peach,” Jesse continues, picking up his sandwich. “To-may-to, to-mah-to.”

Flustered, Hanzo grabs up his own sandwich and takes a huge bite. Jesse has been flirting with him for months. A few sweet words should not make him feel suddenly shy, especially after last night. But before he could easily dismiss them; Jesse flirts with everybody. Then last night Jesse kissed him, and the truck happened. Now it means something. Hanzo has never had to face Jesse’s affections knowing that they are real.

He really must be slow on the uptake, because it takes him three bites before he realizes what he is eating. “This is my sandwich,” he says. Brilliant observation, Hanzo, he thinks.

Jesse waits until he has swallowed to answer. “Yeah? It was the stone-ground mustard, right? I wasn’t sure.”

“You did,” Hanzo says, feeling ridiculously warm for the simple act. Jesse remembers the way he makes his sandwiches. That should not make him feel so giddy. “Thank you.”

Jesse somehow manages to shrug off the thanks and also look proud of himself, looking down and fussing with his own food, glancing up at Hanzo warmly. Another wave of realization floods Hanzo; this has all the signs of a first date. Sure, they may have done things a little out of order, but some feelings do not change just because you have sex before you so much as ask each other out. And if this is a first date, Hanzo needs to make sure he does not sleep through the whole thing.

Sitting up, he shakes his head hard and clears his throat. “So. Last night--”

“Yes?” Jesse blurts, a bit too eager to be just excitement. Nervous, too.

“Yes,” Hanzo says, smiling. “When we talked about going back to my rooms, and--and us, I was wondering…”

There is a pause, and Jesse waits all of five seconds before prompting Hanzo to continue. “Yeah, darlin’?”

Hanzo fights the urge to look elsewhere, forcing himself to look Jesse in the eye. “Did you mean...are we…” He waggles his hand back and forth between them. “A thing?”

Jesse laughs. He laughs, and for one terrifying moment Hanzo thinks Jesse is laughing at him, that the question was idiotic, because of course they are not a thing, how could Hanzo even think that, get out of here. Then Jesse leans over the table and takes Hanzo’s hand in his. “We are most definitely a thing. If’n you’ll have me, that is.”

Fingers entwined, Hanzo squeezes and tugs Jesse until he scoots his chair closer around the table. “I would very much like that,” Hanzo replies.

“Good to hear,” Jesse says, then laughs again, softer. “Felt real brave last night finally sayin’ somethin’, but we were both dog-tired and loopy I thought...in the light of day you might be feelin’ different.”

Hanzo shakes his head. For once he knows exactly what to say. “I have felt this way longer than this trip, Jesse. You have nothing to worry about.”

The cowboy’s shoulder’s visibly relax and he leans around the table for a kiss that Hanzo is happy to give. They keep it chaste--there are people around--but both start smiling partway through at the promise of more. Hanzo’s heart buzzes with happiness.

No. That is near his head. As soon as he thinks it, a very faint weight settles onto his shoulder. His initial reaction is to pull his hand loose from Jesse’s and knock whatever it is away, but he also becomes aware of Jesse leaning back a few inches and his eyes going alarmingly wide. Jesse’s hand holds his with an iron grip, keeping him from swatting anything. “Hanzo,” Jesse says, dead serious. “Don’t move.”

Of course, at that point, he becomes excruciatingly aware of his own body, that there is  _ something  _ on him, and all he wants to do is move. “What is it?” he asks. From his peripheral Hanzo can see that something move on his shoulder.

“Tarantula hawk.”

Well, that is a horrible combination of words. “A what?” he repeats, voice going faint.

“It’s a giant wasp,” Jesse says, voice calm. It is the same tone he used when Hana broke her arm one mission and she was on the verge of hysterics. Which means Jesse thinks that Hanzo is on the verge of hysterics. He is not wrong. “They hunt spiders, lay their eggs in the bodies. Powerful sting. That’s why we’re gonna sit here until this fella finishes looking at your ribbon, cause then he’ll fly off, okay?”

By the time Jesse finishes with his plea, Hanzo is only capable of a tiny whimper in acknowledgment. He turns his head as slow as he can until his eyes can focus on the insect so close to his face. The wasp is huge, the biggest he has ever seen, at least five centimeters. Its body is an iridescent blue-black, almost purple, with rust-colored wings that shine in the sun. And it is indeed investigating Hanzo’s bright gold ribbon, curious little feelers touching it all over.

They sit, frozen in time, Jesse murmuring soft nonsense words and Hanzo fighting to breathe without moving his torso, until the tarantula hawk grows bored. Almost lazily it lifts off into the air, loud buzz fading as it flies away.

Jesse sighs, and smiles. “There, all gone.”

Hanzo looks at his shoulder, at Jesse, then wiggles all over to shake the creepy-crawly-danger feelings from his skin. “What the fuck?!” he cries, yanking his ribbon from his hair and shoving it in his pocket.

“Hanzo, language,” Jesse laughs, looking around and shrugging at a group across the patio.

“No, what--why? Why does that thing exist? That is an abomination against nature!” Hanzo exclaims.

Jesse just shrugs. “Yeah, you definitely don’t want to get stung by one. Stinger’s a fourth of an inch long. They prey on tarantulas and scorpions, actually. Once they sting and paralyze them, they lay their eggs then carry them back to a nest so the babies will have a live meal when they hatch. So, a few less scorpions in the world. That should make you happy, right?”

He has to begrudgingly admit that, yes, that does make things marginally better. Grosser, but better. Hanzo picks at his food, his mood soured, until Jesse grabs Hanzo’s chair and drags him until they sit flush. An arm around Hanzo’s shoulders and a warm chest to burrow into has him feeling like not all is lost. But still. “I hate this state,” he mutters.

“I know,” Jesse replies, doting.

“I want a redo. This is a horrible first date.”

“Can-do, sweetheart. The second-first date will blow you out of the water.”

Hanzo sighs, rests his head on Jesse’s shoulder. “Promise me I never have to come back here?”

Jesse nuzzles Hanzo’s hair, sly smile just out of his view. “Promise. Besides, you’ll like New Mexico way better, anyway.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you like that and want more, want to check out my art, or just want to chat, come on by my tumblr! You can find me under username wyntera. And if twitter is more your game, come and join me there, just look for @ThreeCatDesigns.
> 
> And hey. Thanks.


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